


Won't You Come 'Round My Way?

by nobetterlove



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV), Thirteen Reasons Why - Jay Asher
Genre: AU, Alternate Event, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Build, clony + Hannah friendship, new kid, self realizations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-29 23:32:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10864428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterlove/pseuds/nobetterlove
Summary: Clay Jensen is the new kid in town. Who else but Tony Padilla could find him on his first day and practically change his life with the squeal of expensive tires.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, friends! Since I finished off Casual Party, this little thing has been sitting in my brain. I'm pretty stoked to see where it's going to go, so hopefully you enjoy the ride, too. I'm flying from the seat of my pants with this one, so any ideas and/or suggestions would be really awesome. As always, thanks for the read!

Grease stained fingers roved over the engine, checking again for the plug that was loose. When fingertips managed to find it, Tony let out a triumphant sound. He'd been working on the car for the better part of the last couple of days. What a way to finish off the summer, he thought. While he'd spent most of his vacation days out in the garage with his father, elbows deep in oil, he figured he should've at least tried to end it with a bang. It didn't matter, though, the people around here never disappointed when it came to parties. 

His mother's voice yelling from the kitchen startled him. The plug was finally in place and nimble fingers were making sure it stayed that way. He let out a huffed breath, hating to be interrupted when he was working. The sound of it again had him grabbing for a towel, tan fingers unlocking his phone once they were clean to see the time. Oh. Well, it made sense now why she was still screaming. School started in a couple of hours. His puttering would have to be put on the back burner. 

Stripping out of his coveralls, Tony left the garage, making sure to lock it up behind him. When he walked through the back door, his mother wound up to yell again. Tony put up his hands, the gesture stopping her in her tracks. "Lo siento, ma. I lost track of time," Tony said to her, speaking softly. She gestured for him to come closer before swatting his arm lightly. "Go get ready," she mumbled, a little smile on her cheeks. He nodded, grabbing her hand for a moment before turning to leave the kitchen. 

Tony showered quickly, wanting to get to school early enough to pick off his parking spot for the year, again. Since getting his license the year before, Tony parked in the same spot. It was away from all the jackasses enough not to get messed with, but close enough to not be far away. The walk to the front of the building a heavenly silent occurrence most of the time. If it weren't for Hannah, the boy would've spent his time in between periods with his Walkman on, headphones in his ears. The girl insisted on talking, so he tried his best to listen. 

Thinking about Hannah had him grabbing for his phone, remembering suddenly to text her. 

Tony: I'll be there early. Actually BE ready. 

The boy shook his head. They'd been friends for about a year now. Hannah came to town last summer, brand new and eager to make bad choices about bad dudes. Tony swooped in and showed her the way, the two pretty inseparable since. She was the only one who knew he was gay, the only one he trusted to let him discover what that meant at his own pace. His phone buzzed, her vibration tone playing across the ceramic of the sink. 

Hannah: You're going to feel silly.  
Hannah: I'm already dressed and toasting bagels.  
Hannah: Suck it. 

Tony grinned, rolling his eyes. Putting the phone face down, he went about finishing his hair, glad to have gotten it cut a few days earlier. The gel stayed nicely, keeping the subtle curl in place. A soft smile tugged at his lips, the boy liking what he saw in the mirror. He quickly cleaned up around the sink, washing the excess gel from his hands as he did. 

Luckily, he thought to pick an outfit out the night before. Tony didn't care much about other people's clothes. Styles and trends came and went, but Tony had always liked to look a certain way. Vintage cars and the atmosphere that surrounded them engulfed every piece of his life, wardrobe included. He slipped into straight legged jeans, rolling the cuffs a couple of times. He pulled on a black Henley, leaving the buttons open so a bit of the cherry blossom tattoo poked out, the color a nice contrast against the darkness of his shirt. The outfit would be finished with his leather jacket, as it was every single day of his life. The beat up boots that fit him so perfectly were by the door, waiting for him to head out to the Mustang.

Grabbing his bag, Tony stomped down the stairs, stopping briefly to kiss his ma on the cheek. "I'm heading out. Gotta get Hannah." He moved around here then, heading for the door. "Te amo, ma," he spoke out, grinning when she muttered it back. Slipping into his boots, Tony nodded, digging the effect of the completed outfit. 

Tony sighed with contentment getting into the Mustang. He'd practically built the thing from the ground up. Driving her always felt particularly satisfying. His fingers dug in the center console, landing on a mixtape. He put it in, nodding when the music started and Lord Huron started up. Hitting the button, Tony felt more and more ready as the garage door raised, the boy as stoked as he was going to be to start another year of hell. 

\--- 

About ten minutes later, Tony pulled up to the curb of the Baker's house, nodding at her mother. "Hey, Mrs. Baker," he said out the open window, grinning as the hose she'd been using to water the flowers soaked the side of her shirt. A soft red tint colored the women's cheeks. "Hi, Tony," she replied, shaking her head at the hose. Hannah came out a moment later, muttering a quick goodbye to the woman before hoping in the car. Her curly hair bounced as she slid into the seat, revealing a patch covered jean jacket. 

"Righteous find, Baker. Is that from that old thrift store you found?" Tony asked, appreciating the creations Hannah would slap together from her little hobby. "You'd be correct, sir. Found the patches in this fifty cent bin. Ironed them on myself last night." She beamed as she talked, pulling the sides of the jacket to show of her work. Tony nodded, putting the car back into drive. 

"Is this that song you were telling me about?" Hannah asked a second later. Tony turned his head, grinning as he nodded. "Dude, yes. I did some research. This guy came up with this like- whole world that this entire CD is based on," Tony said excitedly, taking his eyes completely off the road. The loud pitch of Hannah's voice replying to him threw him off, Tony turning his head back around to see a tall kid on a bike... about to get hit by his Mustang. Tony registered the words "watch out" being yelled from Hannah's lips, the sound of them suddenly springing him into motion. His foot slammed on the breaks. The tires managed to stop with a squeal, just inches from the kid. The sound must've scared him however, the boy swerving, hitting the edge of a car on the side of the street before sailing over it. The bike followed him shortly behind, probably landing on the kid to soften the blow. Tony pulled to the side of the road where the kid landed, putting the Mustang in park. 

Tony looked over at Hannah, so many apologies heavy in his eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled, moving to unbuckle his seat belt. "Stay here. I'm going to go make sure I didn't kill that kid," Tony finally got out, shame eating up the words. With a quick inhale of breath, he got out of the car, swinging his legs until they hit the pavement. Shaky legs carried him over to the heap of a kid, Tony paling at the sight. 

He bent down, putting a hand on the kids shoulder. When he looked up, Tony felt something shift. Sparking blue eyes looked at him curiously, and a bloody gash stared harshly, accusation clear. The pale boy sucked in a breath, groaning a little as his long fingers came in contact with the cut. "Shit. That hurts," the kid muttered, his skin paling when he saw the blood.

"Dude, I'm so sorry. I was geeking out over some music and lost track of where I was. Can I- I mean, do you need to go to the hospital?" Tony asked, his hand still lounging on the kids shoulder. The boy visibly paled more, shaking his head. "No, no hospitals. My mom would freak. I just need to find my way to school and then I'll think about getting it cleaned up," Tony perked up at that, grinning slightly. 

"Do you go to Liberty? It's a shitty consolation, but I'm heading that way myself. Let me give you a ride," the shorter boy found himself saying, the words out before really thinking. He blamed it on the heat in his stomach, what he knew to be the stirrings of attraction, the most distracting fucking thing there is. Shaking his head, he flashed the semblance of a smile at the kid. 

It seemed to work. Pale cheeks washed with pink, the boy nodding his head eagerly. "Yeah. Yes. Yes, please. I just moved here, so I was kind of dreading getting there alone, anyway." 

"New guy, huh? I kind of figured that. I didn't recall ever seeing you around. I'm Tony. Tony Padilla," Tony said, his voice soaking with excitement. He couldn't help it, this kid was damn cute. 

"Tony, hey. I'm Clay Jensen. I should probably get used to being new kid, too," the Clay kid said, a laugh slipping from smooth looking lips. "Yeah, probably. Think of it this way, though, you'll be all everyone talks about for a while," Tony replied sarcastically. The boy looked terrified for a second before relaxing, laughing again. "That sounds horrifying." Tony nodded, the boy not going to get any arguments from him. 

Tony got up from the squatted position he'd been in, offering his hand to Clay when he got himself up and steady. "Come on, man. I promise to get you there in one piece." The kid grabbed his hand, nodding his head. "Here's hoping." Clay shot back, grinning all the while. 

"Grab your bike. Let's put it in the trunk. After school, I'll take you home. We can stop by my garage so I can fix it up." Tony said over his shoulder, walking ahead to get the trunk open. Once he did that, he moved to the passenger side window, glancing at Hannah. 

"I've picked up a stow away. I gave the kid a gnarly gash and he's new to Liberty, so we're giving him a ride. So be nice," Tony babbled, the words stringing into each other in his haste to get them out. "Do you mind getting into the back?" his voice wavered, even more guilt eating at him because of his own stupidity. In true Hannah fashion, however, she simply gave him a look, affection and annoyance all mixed together, before climbing into the back seat. The new kid joined him then, bending so he could see into the window-less space, too. 

"Hi. I'm Clay Jensen," the tall kid said, grinning at her. Hannah smiled back, waving her fingers. "Hannah Baker. Hope he didn't give you a concussion. You should be wearing a helmet," the girl said in reply. Clay nodded, his hand once again reaching up to touch the still bleeding cut on his forehead. "I usually do. I didn't want to look uncool with it on on the first day," Clay easily admitted. 

Hannah let out a laugh, pretty eyes rolling. "Somehow, I think that backfired on you. Tony was in the mood to drive pretty recklessly today. That'll show you," the girl spoke through giggles falling from her lips. She shot Tony a smile, sticking her tongue out when he arched a brow at her. 

Reaching out, Tony laid his hand against Clay's back, sucking in a breath when an electric current shook him to his core. Eyes bulged and it took him a moment to remember what he'd been trying to say. "Hop in, dude. We've got a parking spot to catch," Tony finally got out, his chest heavy with feelings coursing through him. Clay looked over his shoulder, shooting Tony a little smirk. "Reckless driver and wild parking spot hunter. What a combination," the kid said, sarcasm apparent in his voice. The smirk turned to a smile, blue eyes catching brown. 

Tony had to blink a few times before he could draw himself away. Those eyes were like the depth of the ocean, the water cool, getting darker the further he dove into the depths. His feet felt stuck to the spot before he made himself move. Tony shook his head, what the actual fuck was wrong with him. 

He quickly fit himself behind the wheel, determined to stay focused and get them all to Liberty in one piece. His fingers wrapped around the shifter, pressing the break in so he could pull it down, putting the car into drive. For the first time in a while, Tony used his mirrors to get out, wanting to make sure he did everything right. The next kid he hit because he was distracted probably wouldn't be as cool about it as Clay was. Once they got on the road, Tony relaxed a bit, reaching to turn the dial and amp up the music. 

"I totally understand why you were nerding out," Clay said after a couple moments, the music the only thing filling up the car. "This is Lord Huron, right?" the kid asked. Tony couldn't help but beam, though, he forced himself to keep his eyes on the road. "Yes. Holy shit, yes. This guy is amazing, right?" Tony replied back to him, using his free hand to form a fist. Clay took the hint and bumped it, his own smile playing across his face. "Here's another uncool thing, but my twitter handle is from one of his songs." That admission had Hannah laughing from the back. "How original, Helmet," she mumbled, everyone sucking in a breath at the nickname. Tony couldn't see if the two shared a look, but it didn't matter. The kid was now a part of the group. They'd just accepted him as one of their own. 

"Helmet. I think I can come to like it. It'll remind me to wear one, if nothing else," Clay finally said. Everyone laughed, the mood in the car light. Despite the commotion and excitement, Tony figured it couldn't have been a better drive to school. 

When they pulled up, Clay hopped out quickly, Hannah hot on his tail. She leaned down, holding the door open. "You should at least make sure he gets where he needs to be," she said directly to Tony, shooting him a look he'd never seen before. He felt compelled to nod, eyebrows arching. Hannah merely shot him a wink, standing up completely. "I'll see you two at lunch." She wiggled her fingers and shut the door, walking with fast strides towards the front of the building. 

Tony unbuckled his seat belt, taking his time getting himself together. He couldn't remember feeling anything like this before. His heart wanted to leap from his chest and his mouth wanted to move a mile a minute with questions. His entire being felt compelled to know more about the new kid, the tall guy with the piercing eyes. Somehow, he needed to find a way to shut it off, or find a way to do exactly that. Whatever he did, it needed to happen soon. Tony didn't know if he could handle the flutter much more than he already was. 

Finally shouldering his backpack, Tony walked over to Clay, bumping their shoulders together. "Let's go get your forehead cleaned up and then I'll show you around," Tony got out, grabbing the sleeve of Clay's hoodie, pulling him along. 

\--- 

Thankfully the guys bathroom was empty when they finally managed to get there. Navigating the halls was always frustrating, but on the first day even worse. Everyone was friends with everyone for that brief period of time. Who ever they were was right when they said distance makes the heart grow fonder. There'd be hoards of people in the halls for the first couple of days, at least until everyone remembered why they disliked each other in the first place. The jungle would calm down and niches would be reformed. Balance and order to the universe would restore itself. Until that happened, however, Tony would fear for his life while wandering down the halls. 

"Go stand by the sink, I have a first aid kit in my bag," Tony told Clay, flipping the lock on the main door. This was Clay's first day. The last thing the kid needed was any kind of rumor flying about him. He followed Clay over to the sinks, putting his bag down in one of them, rummaging until he found the kit. 

"Why do you have one of those on your person? Do you often hit people with that amazing car of yours?" Clay asked, what Tony thought sounded like affection and amusement lacing the kid's voice. Tony laughed, shaking his head. Tan fingers opened the box, grabbing the peroxide. 

"I'm a mechanic, actually. I've sliced open callouses and cuts from work that tend to bleed a lot. Kind of nice to have stuff on me so I don't, y'know, bleed out little by little," Tony joked back, turning on the tap and wetting one of the gauze pads. He quickly washed out the dirt on Clay's forehead, then replaced the dirty gauze with clean stuff covered in peroxide. "Might sting a bit," he muttered after already placing it against Clay's skin. The sharp intake of breath had him chuckling. "Sorry," Tony said softly, looking up to find blue eyes staring at him. Clay's face was pulled up in a smile. 

Tony had to blink roughly again, trying hard to shake the look he just saw from his brain. "So, Clay Jensen. Where do you hail from? And why'd you move to this miserable place?" Tony asked, genuine curiosity carrying the words. The town didn't get too many new people. It was pretty close knit, so new families seemed to have a harder time making themselves fit in. 

Clay shrugged, his body moving to relax more comfortably against the wall. "I don't really know what made us come here, actually. My dad is a professor and my mom is a defense attorney. We lived in Seattle most of my life, so the move was kind of abrupt. What about you? Have you been here forever?" the boy asked. 

By then, Tony was pressing the bandaid against impeccably smooth skin. Well, used to be impeccable, at least. The depth of the gash told him that it would probably scar. No need to share that bit of information, though. Taking a second to think about the answer, Tony lifted his eyes, once again getting caught up in the endless blue. 

"Yeah, man. I've been here since I could remember, at least. My dad owns a couple garages around town. I've been restoring vintage cars since before I could walk, it seems like." Tony smiled at the memory. He wouldn't change his grease rimmed cuticles for anything. 

When he'd smoothed the bandaid against Clay's skin, he let his hands linger for a second before pulling back. What the fuck, he thought, not for the first time that morning. 

"Thanks, Tony Padilla. I can't say I'm stoked you almost hit me with your car, but I don't mind what happened because of it," Clay muttered, Tony noticing the slightest hint of blush on his cheeks. 

Tony shook his head, hiding his own blush behind the movement. After a second, he held a hand out. "Give me your schedule. I'll walk you to your classes today." 

Clay took a second to dig in his backpack, producing a piece of paper which he quickly handed over. Tony looked it over, grinning at the four classes they shared together. "Looks like you're not getting rid of me much, anyway." Tony sounded a bit too happy about that, the vibrations of his voice making him cringe a bit. He stopped leaning against the sink and re packed up his first aid kit, anything to distract him from the overwhelming excitement trying to take hold of him and dig in. Getting the bag across his shoulders, Tony took a huge breath, preparing himself for what the day would hold. 

"Let's go, Jensen. Get ready for your first taste of Liberty High," Tony said, a mock tour guide tone taking over his pitch. Clay laughed at him, blue eyes twinkling. "Oh boy. I can't wait!" 

Tony flipped the lock, opening the door and letting them out into the hallway. The clumps of people were no longer there, a few stragglers the only people left haunting the halls. 

"Shit. I guess we missed first bell. Good thing you're a cute newbie," Tony mumbled, grabbing Clay's sleeve once again to pull him behind, directing him through the halls. They stopped in front of a door, Mrs. Bailey's stupidly decorated one. Tony tried hard not to think about the cute comment, or the subtle smile on Clay's lips when he said it, either. Turning his head, Tony wiggles his eyebrows, smirk in place. 

"First stop, communications."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay thinks about his crazy morning, and learns a little something about bike management.

The first thing Clay thought of when he finally got the chance to sit down was the color of Tony Padilla’s eyes. Despite being thrown from his bike and soaring through the air, hell, despite the fact that he got swept into some random person’s car—Clay couldn’t get the color of Tony’s eyes out of his head. For some reason, brown was always a favorite color of his. It was close enough to black to be dark, absorbing most of the color spectrum, but it had enough red in it to stay on the light side, too. Tony’s eyes were the color of wet sand after a particularly rainy day down by the bay. They were dark and expressive, yet held the slightest bit of light in them.

Sucking a breath through his nose, Clay tried to pay attention to the classroom dynamic happening in front of him. When they got here a couple weeks ago, his guidance counselor told him he’d be a few weeks ahead of everyone, so on top of settling in, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about school work. It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. The course of the mornings events was the main player in his mind—no amount of forced conversation about forcing conversation would overtake what played across the forefront of his brain. Clay figured he’d be friendless for the rest of his time in the small little town. That honestly didn’t matter to him. It’d be like he never left Seattle at all. He was proven wrong quickly by a small, brown haired girl, and Tony Padilla, both the cause of the accident and his knight in leather.

A clearing of a throat had him looking up, Clay’s eyebrows raising when he noticed Hannah Baker looking at him expectantly. She two had a brow raised. Her slim finger pointed to his band aid—a look of curiosity in her eyes. “Did he take care of you?” she whispered, looking over her shoulder to where Tony sat a couple seats away from Clay. “He’s an idiot, but he plays a great nurse maid,” she whispered again, obviously not worried about whatever answer Clay might’ve come up with. Instead, he merely nodded, smiling softly at her. “Good, good.” With that, she turned around. Clay stayed staring at her for a second, like if he looked at her long enough, she might turn around and explain herself. The more the seconds ticked by, the creepier he felt. By the time the minute hand moved for the second time, Clay knew she wouldn’t be turning around for the rest of the period. Her cryptic questions would have to stay that—cryptic.

The next couple of periods went the same way. People would turn around in their chairs just to stare. A lot of eyes landed on the big bandage on his forehead, but no one thought to ask. Better that way, he thought, Clay wracking his brain on how he’d even begin to explain what happened, anyway. The only thing that interested him was Tony, and the fact that the guy was hell bent on walking him to each one of his classes. Brown eyes would survey the hall, as if he were on guard, or something, before Tony would turn to him, a beaming smile on his lips. “I’ll meet you out here at the end of class,” he’d say before turning quickly to head the other way.

When Clay first got in the car, he figured Tony and Hannah were together. The way the girl simply did what he asked of her showed a lot of affection and trust between the two of them. That was as far as it seemed to go, however. From what he’d seen of Hannah Baker in the couple classes they had together, she was strong willed and boisterous. People looked at her oddly, like they do with most things they can’t understand, but from the looks of it, she seemed to hold her own pretty well. Her reaction to Tony was much the same, only holding a higher sense of actual caring, instead of the nonchalance she treated everyone else with. Tony, well, he couldn’t quite figure out why he could tell they weren’t together on Tony’s part. Maybe it was the brown eyes taking in his lips, or the subtle way his hands seemed to linger—but if they were together, he hardly doubted the morning would have played out in the same fashion that it did. No matter—there’d be plenty of time to figure out Tony Padilla and his comings and goings.

During the classes they shared together, aside from communications, the shorter boy sat next to him. Clay took each opportunity to figure out something new about the kid. First, Clay noticed that Tony could not sit still. Already knowing he had good music taste, Clay was interested to find that everything in Tony’s reach became a musical instrument. Instead of taking notes, Tony tapped his pen in time to whatever beat was playing in his head. Most people would’ve found it annoying, but Clay found it to be interesting—another piece of the Padilla puzzle he couldn’t wait to fit together. The next thing he noticed was the way the guy smelled. He mentioned being a mechanic, so the motor oil and grease smell made a whole lot of sense. There was something else there, though. It reminded him of home and comfort, something that’s spicy and rich, but sweet and indulgent all at the same time. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was—despite the intoxicating draw. Who knew smell could be such an attractive feature.

All and all, Clay felt really ready to hop into the Mustang by the end of the day.

\---

Clay managed to navigate himself to the front of the building after last bell, the boy figuring it pointless to wait around for Tony when they’d be meeting up, anyway. It didn’t occur to him until that very moment to be worried about his bike. Not even having his driver’s license, Clay knew that bike was his only means of transportation for the rest of the year—unless Tony was offering rides on the daily. The mere thought brought a blush to his cheeks. Clay didn’t know much about the kid, but what he did, he liked more and more. Being shy and quiet gave him the opportunity to get to know people in ways they wouldn’t normally allow a person to. Somehow, Clay thought Tony might be the same way. He’d felt the same brown eyes he couldn’t get out of his head on his back throughout most of the day. If that were truly the case, maybe stepping out of his comfort zone and opening up could be a little more worth it than usual.

Hannah Baker’s voice for the third time that day got his attention. “Hey, Helmet,” he heard, blue eyes searching for a second until he found her, long curly hair bouncing as she walked. “Hannah Baker,” Clay said in return, glad to have remembered her name—hell, glad to have someone he already felt a little bit of comfort around. “Clay. Can you tell Tony that I’m going to walk home? I’ve got a shift at my parent’s store, anyway.” Hannah said, bumping her shoulder against his. “Your parent’s store?” Clay decided to answer with, suddenly curious and eager to add another place in town he actually knew. “Yup. Baker’s Drugs. My parents are pharmacists.” Her voice was full of pride, though, she tried hard to conceal it. “Anyway. I’ve gotta go. Let Tony know, okay?” Clay nodded, a small grin taking over his cheeks as she walked away.

Clay was pulled from that by his voice sounding again, this time belonging to Tony Padilla. “Jensen,” he heard, the small grin turning to big, flashes of teeth showing, even. Long legs carried him to the curb where he leaned down, looking through the open window. “Hop in. Let me get your bike fixed up then I’ll take you home,” Tony said, gesturing with his hand for Clay to get in the car. "Awesome. Oh, Hannah said she was walking. She's got a shift at her parents' place," Clay replied. Tony nodded, a look of affectionate agitation washing over his face. 

When the taller boy ducked into the car, that same smell of grease and leather hit him, the bulk of it permeating from the seats. With the whirlwind of everything happening this morning, Clay didn’t get a chance to really take in all the Mustang had to offer. The leather seats were polished, the slick softness of them saying they were probably done at least once a week. For it belonging to a teenager, the inside was impeccable, cleaner than even his mom’s car. The tape deck stood out the most, though. He heard the music playing earlier that morning, but didn’t take a second to see where it was coming from. The car was vintage, and the fact that Tony kept the vintage music playing equipment spoke volumes to Clay. This kid was worth knowing. Even if his chocolate brown eyes were the most distracting things he’d come into contact with to date. 

Clearing his throat, Clay looked over at Tony, flashing him a smile. He hoped the redness he felt on his cheeks wasn’t as visible as it probably was—they felt like they were on fire. “Thanks, man. I appreciate the ride,” he started, moving around in the seat until he felt a bit more comfortable. “How close are bikes and cars? I hope it’s not any trouble fixing the stupid thing,” Clay managed to finish. Coming from a family filled with intellectuals, Clay never had a chance to learn hands on things like what’s up under the hood, or how to change a tire. He didn’t even know if his father knew how to do that. Being very uncoordinated didn’t help with hands on things, either. Though he couldn’t partake in them, however, Clay loved watching people do their work. The finish product always amazed him—how a broken thing turned into something practically brand new with just a touch of someone’s hands and a few tools.

Tony laughed a little, shrugging his shoulders, not privy to the madness happening inside Clay’s brain. “They’re the same premise. Pretty much the same parts, just on a smaller scale. Have you never fixed your bike before?” Tony asked him, a genuine curiosity in the boy’s tone. The boy pulled the Mustang away from the curb then, the slightest growl from the engine bringing a smile to both their faces. “Uh—no. I tried to fix the chain the last time it messed up and I ended up with grease all over me and an even worse off chain.” Clay mumbled, the red tint rising back in his cheeks. He let himself laugh at the hilarity of it, though—glad he did when Tony joined in. The kid’s laugh was rich, coming from deep in his stomach. For such a small person, Tony carried himself in a big way—his laugh even coming out more giant than expected. The red color deepened on Clay’s cheeks at the thought. “Sounds like I’ll be doing most of the work, then,” Tony replied, little laughs slipping through his words.

Clay watched as tan fingers fiddled with the dial, turning the music up loud enough to hear, yet not loud enough to drawn out conversation. The taller boy let himself listen, his ears perking up to the sounds of Kings of Leon. “I’m pretty sure you stole my playlists,” Clay mentioned, turning the dial up a little bit more to pound out the chorus of Comeback Story. A smirk could be seen on Tony’s face, Clay wondering not for the first time what the other kid was thinking. Brown eyes caught his for a second, lots and lots of things unsaid sitting within the confines of them. “Kings is classic, man. It must be that your taste is as good as mine,” Tony fired back, before harmonizing with him during the last chorus, both boys totally off, but enjoying every second of it.

“I’ve always liked the family based bands. I’ve got three older brothers, and if we musically inclined at all, we probably would’ve been the next Kings. It’d be a fucking blast to travel with your family, singing, living the rock star life,” Tony continued after a second, the semblance of a different sort of smile playing across his lips. Clay grinned at that, happy to know another big piece of information about the guy.

“I’m an only child, so I can only imagine how crazy that could be. How is having three older brothers? I bet you know how to fight pretty well, if nothing else,” Clay spoke out, his voice loud and unafraid, so different than most of the time. Tony shot him a glance again, probably trying to gauge Clay’s actual interest. With a shrug, Tony answered him. “I wouldn’t change it for anything. They’re a pain in the ass, but family is family,” he replied, stopping for a second to let out a little chuckle. “Yeah, man. I fight pretty well. We’re Puerto Rican. Fighting is pretty much a passed time. If there’s not at least one fight at a family get together, we don’t count it as a success.” Tony’s smile told him he was joking. The smaller boy laughed outright. “You should see the look on your face,” Tony mumbled, shaking his head. Tan fingers readjusted themselves on the steering wheel, Clay feeling the car move a bit faster after that.

When they finally pulled into Tony’s house, Clay once again took in his surroundings. They were on the opposite side of town from his house. The yard wasn’t nearly as big as his own, but kept up much nicer. He could tell that a real family lived there—a real family who made their sons do chores and keep the lawn looking impeccable. Clay couldn’t help but feel a little jealous at the thought.

He heard Tony get out, so he followed closely behind, trailing around the Mustang to see the trunk being opened. The shorter guy pulled his bike from the back, hitting the kick stand so it would stand up on his own. Before taking a walk around it, Tony shut the trunk. He grabbed the sleeve of Clay’s hoodie, pulling him along as they toured around the bike. “Do you see the way the front wheel is turned in?” Tony asked him, pointing with a calloused finger. Clay, until it being pointed out to him, didn’t see a damn thing wrong with it. His eyes focused on Tony’s finger, following it down until he too could see the curve in the front of the bike. “Hm, yeah. I never would’ve noticed that. Is it a bad thing?” Clay shrugged as he asked this, hoping Tony would be able to fix it regardless.

“Nope, not at all. It’s a quick fix, watch,” Tony mumbled before stepping so that his legs were on either side of the wheel. He took a handle bar in each hand, gripping them tightly. Squeezing with his legs to keep the lower half of the front in place, Tony turned the handles until the top and the bottom were perfectly aligned. Clay’s mouth hung open, the boy obviously impressed. “That’s it?” he asked before he could stop himself. Tony chuckled, shaking his head. “For that piece of it, yeah. I should tighten the screws to keep it from happening again. What your real problem is, though,” Tony continued, still tugging Clay by the sleeve until they were at the back of the bike, “is the fact that the tube in your tire burst. If you squeeze it, you’ll feel the outer bit still in tact, but the middle is extra squishy. That’ll take me a hot second to fix it, if you’re up for it,” the boy finally finished, letting Clay’s sleeve go, taking the handle bars in his hands once again.

“I’m up for it. I’ll try and pay attention so you only have to do this once,” Clay said, though, he knew he’d probably forget what Tony did the second he did it.

Long legs easily carried him into the garage, Clay following Tony a little bit closer than probably necessary. When they stepped into the garage, Clay figured they’d stepped into another dimension. Not having his own car, Clay didn’t even know what the inside of an oil change place looked like. There were stacks of tool boxes everywhere. Heavy machinery sat in one corner of the place, the thing probably for lifting cars up, allowing whoever was working on it to get under the frame. There were a couple of older looking cars squeezed into it, both seemingly half done with whatever work they were getting on them. “Wow,” Clay babbled, not knowing he said anything until he looked up and saw Tony staring at him. “Sorry. I’m as ignorant of this shit as you could possibly be. In Seattle, my parents rode their bikes everywhere,” he said in some form of explanation. Clay only hoped that Tony found it endearing, not uncool and nerdy like he was starting to feel it was. The worry was quickly washed away when a huge smile played across Tony’s face. The boy looked down for a second, obviously trying to hide whatever it was residing in that smile. “You’re something else, man. You’re welcome here anytime, since you’re making it sound like Wonderland, or something.” Tony’s face stayed pulled into a smile, even as he turned his back and started to dig through one of the rows of tools.

“You might change your mind once I start firing off question after question,” Clay retorted, grinning when Tony shook his head. “Nah, not even then.”

\---

An hour later found them finally done with everything on the bike. Clay watched with wide eyes as Tony effortlessly moved around the bike. He could only imagine what the guy working on a car would look like. A big piece of him wanted to see that and knew he’d be taking Tony up on his offer of ‘anytime’. Their conversation back and forth was easy, Tony laughing more times than not at what Clay had to say. The two were opposites, polar in a way that worked to keep balance between them. Clay didn’t know much about friendship, or crushes, or whatever this was shaping out to be, but he did know he liked it—very, very much. 

“Thanks for fixing my bike. It’s my lame way of getting around,” Clay said after they’d gotten the bike loaded back into the trunk. Both boys were settling into their seats. His mother texted him twice, worried that he didn’t come home straight from school—yet Clay ignored them, happy to be doing something he wanted for a change.

“Thanks for not calling the cops on me when I trashed your bike in the first place,” Tony got out, guilt and amusement crossing his face. His features changed for a second before the tough guy mask was back. “I’m kind of glad I almost ran you over, though,” the other piped up a second later. Their eyes met again, brown and blue swirling together, hypnotizing to say the least. When Tony managed to blink himself back, he looked away quickly, redness brushing his entire face. Tan fingers moved to the dial, the turning of it an obvious nervous twitch.

“I’m kind of glad you almost ran me over, too. I didn’t think I’d meet anyone, so you’re a really cool surprise.” Clay reached over, punching Tony’s shoulder lightly.

The other laughed, the deep sound of it quickly becoming Clay’s favorite thing. “A cool surprise. I can appreciate that.” After that, the two rode in silence, Clay firing off directions every so often. They pulled up to the curb of his house in what seemed like too little time. Clay wasn’t ready for their time together to end.

“Would you want to maybe hangout again sometime?” Clay asked, glad he actually managed to get the words out of his mouth. “I’d love to watch you work on an actual car next time.”

Tony turned in his seat, a look of approval and excitement on his face. “Yeah, man. I’d love that. Why don’t I pick you up for school a little earlier tomorrow? There’s this coffee shop in town that a lot of people from our school like to hangout at. We can hit the garage at the end of the day like we did today—if that’s alright?” Tony’s words were confident and strong, the boy trying hard for his face to match them, too.

Clay’s entire being jumped at the thought—this opportunity to good to pass up.

“Good deal, Padilla,” he spoke out in reply. He dug around in his pocket quickly, pulling out his phone. Unlocking it, Clay handed it across the way, looking at Tony hopefully. “Can I get your number?”

Tony didn’t reply. Calloused fingertips tripped across the screen, hitting all ten of the numbers before pulling back. “There you go,” Tony murmured, looking up to hand the phone back.

Clay got out after that, their departure impending and unable to be stopped. Before walking up his stairs, he leaned down, blasting a soft smile. “Until tomorrow, Padilla.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday, guys! This one has been really there in my mind, so you may see this one updated a little quicker than my other story. Doe Clay is a blast to write. Anyway, if you've got anything you'd like to see, let me know. As always, thanks for the read.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony takes a call, makes a tape, and scores a "date" all in one morning.

Tony never minded the early part of the morning. Since he was a kid, getting up before everyone else meant freedom. Being the youngest, freedom meant a lot. He could eat whatever cereal he wanted, he could watch whatever cartoons he wanted—the whole run of the house, completely his. Not much changed the older he got. His internal clock, it was almost like the thing ran a little bit earlier than everyone else’s. When things were different or Tony was struggling with something, he used the silent time to think—to sort through things. No matter how much he tried to sleep in, or stay in bed at least, he couldn’t. Not when getting up came with the promise of some solace that only came at that time of the morning.

This morning, Tony’s thoughts were on one Clay Jensen. Watching the beautiful guy soar through the air yesterday could have turned out so much worse than it did. Instead of encountering another steer in the herd, this kid was so different—in a way that made his heart pound and his palms sweat. Everything about the kid was interesting, his simple look, the way he held himself, his humor; Tony struggled to find something that he didn’t like. When he told Hannah about being gay, he wanted to be completely honest with himself. There’d never been a spark between himself and a girl, so being with one just didn’t make any sense. However, he’d never been affected like this before. Even before figuring out that guys were where his heart was going to lead him, Tony never thought about a person the way he was thinking about Clay Jensen. When he’d ask Hannah to let him navigate what being gay meant, he never thought a guy would come into the picture.

Those thoughts were a little before their time, Tony made sure to remind himself. They’d only known each other a day and the first part of that day, Tony practically hit him with his car. That didn’t even include the very real possibility that Clay was not gay. There were so many looks shared between them the day before that told Tony otherwise, but he always remembered this—a person is innocent until proven guilty. He’d never be able to forget that, or forgive himself for developing feelings for someone who would never be guilty of this particular thing. Sighing, Tony slumped into the chair, letting his arm rest on the desk in front of him.

Letting the weight of his head fall on his arm, Tony closed his eyes. The whir of the tape being recorded in front of him lulled him into a comfortable sort of half asleep state. The recorder hummed as the music played in the background. Making mixed tapes was a pain in the ass, but so worth it for the end product. It’d been a while since making one and his encounter with Clay Jensen the music man spurred him into looking up new stuff, eager to make a new tape for the collection in his Mustang. Suddenly, his phone started to vibrate against his elbow. Tony was glad he thought to turn the volume off, or the tape he’d been working on for the passed hour would be as good as ruined. Quick fingers flipped off the recorder and the music being recorded before looking at the screen. His eyes softened when he saw Hannah’s name there. The two's shared love of the early morning was something that kept them so close together. Seeing her name on his phone at this time of the morning wasn’t odd at all.

Sliding his finger across the green bar, Tony cleared his throat, waiting a second to say hello. As usual, Hannah paused too. They played the who would speak game all the time, and like always, Tony broke the silence. “Hannah Baker. It is very early for you to be calling me,” Tony said, shifting the chair so he could lean his entire side against the table. “I was making a mixed tape.”

He could hear Hannah gasp on the other side of the phone. “A mixed tape? Oh my. The music guru is flexing his muscles. Might this be for one Clay Jensen?” Hannah asked. Not for the first time in these conversations did he wish he could see Hannah in the flesh. The girl gave off so much just by existing and being as close as they were, Tony could read her like a book. On the phone, however, the amusement in her voice could mean just about anything.

“For Clay Jensen?” Tony started, fiddling with the edge of the desk. He could feel his face heat up, regardless of the fact that she couldn’t see him. “No, not for him. We’re going to Monet’s in a couple of hours and I got the inspiration to look up some new stuff. That’s all.” His voice seemed to portray some confidence, confidence that was actually non-existent. The mixed tape drug him out of bed that morning—his brain refusing to shut up until he went through his music library and came up with a pretty righteous playlist. Not for Clay, though. Definitely not for Clay.

“Bull shit,” Hannah shot out, pulling him away from the distracting thought. “I thought I was going to have to mop up all the drool yesterday. You like him. That’s freaking awesome, Tony,” Hannah continued, her voice growing and ebbing with the flow of her excitement. Since coming out to her, his best friend was incredibly supportive, if not a bit pushy—like right now. A soft smile played across his lips. Despite not really wanting to confront the feelings he couldn’t deny were feelings, Hannah’s support meant the world.

“I do not like him, Hannah. I’m- I’m intrigued by him. The kid didn’t hate me for almost killing him. That’s gotta speak for something, right?” Tony asked, shuddering at the apprehension he could hear in his voice. “When we were together in the bathroom, it almost felt like he was digging me, you know? And then we were in the garage forever talking about everything and nothing. The kid is just… he’s interesting.” Tony heard Hannah let out a little laugh on the other end, the girl enjoying every piece of this. Though, he couldn’t blame her. With all of the terrible guys the girl wanted to get involved with came all the terrible talks about them—and Tony teasing the hell out of her for it. Payback seemed to be an appropriate turnabout. 

“You even brought him to the garage? That’s like—your sacred place. Tony, it’s okay, you know. Even if the kid ends up being crazy instead of interesting, it’s still okay. You’re allowed to feel whatever it is that you’re feeling. What’s the point of navigating something if you never get the boat on the water to try it out?” Hannah had her ‘I’m serious’ voice on now. Tony rolled his eyes, wishing he could deny any of the stuff coming out of her mouth. Instead, the girl spoke the absolute truth. What was the point of being honest if honesty stopped and the same trepidation began? Shaking his head, Tony let himself absorb her words.

“Alright, alright. It’s a little too early for serious Hannah Baker. I’ll—be more open to the maybe feelings I might have.” Tony finally replied, grinning at the huff heard over the line. “Serious Hannah Baker is totally right, just so you know. I’ve gotta go, anyway. Bring me a hot chocolate from Monet’s, will you? I’m going to flex some of my own muscle and walk to school. Don’t say I never do anything for you.” Hannah must’ve pulled the phone away from her ear, the scratch of fabric all he heard while she was speaking those last couple words. The voice of her mother moved down the line a second later. Ah, so the Baker’s were early risers. When she finally got back on the line, he heard another huff.

“Go do what you’ve gotta. I’ll see you at school. Have a nice morning, Baker,” Tony said, the two of them signing off of their conversation the same way they always did.

“Have a nice morning, Padilla.”

There were no further goodbyes. Tony heard the line click and pulled the phone away from his ear. Checking the time, the boy grinned, glad he still had a little bit of time to finish recording his tape. Even if it wasn’t for Clay, he wanted the guy to hear it—he wanted to see how far the connection really ran.

Ducking his head, Tony flipped both pieces of equipment back on, the boy going into a trance listening as the recorder whirred with life, taking each second of the song playing and giving it new life.

\---

Finally feeling ready for whatever his encounter with Clay Jensen had to offer, Tony left the house, glad that both his parents left for work before he finished doing his hair. His ma leaned into his doorway while he was working to perfect the gel, smiling softly. “Te veo esta noche?” she asked, her voice gentle. “Si, ma. I’ll be home after school.” She merely nodded, bringing a hand up, kissing her fingers, and blowing it towards him.

Now, walking out to the car, Tony felt the first little bit of nerves. The entire morning, he was able to focus on the music, then Hannah, and then some more music. Even though his brain dragged him out of bed to think about Clay, Tony kept himself busy to do anything but. With the mixed tape in his hand, the boy couldn’t deny that he wanted this morning to go well. Friendship was just as important as any sort of romantic relationship. If they were only going to be friends, Tony wanted to be the best damn friend he could possibly be. He got himself in the car, forcing a breath from his lungs. It’s just coffee, he reminded himself. It’s just coffee.

Tan fingers pressed the cassette into the player. It took a second to load the thing, a soft sound much like what the recorder made played across the radio until the first notes of the opening song started to play. Tony sat for the first minute of the song, letting the rumble of the bass and the sound of the lead singer's voice lull him into a comfortable state. He was in the best piece of machinery in the world, listening to good music—not a single thing could be wrong with that. No matter how much his stomach fluttered thinking about where he’d be in the next ten to fifteen minutes.

The drive over to the Jensen’s house went by before Tony could even blink. His fingers gripped the leather of the wheel, hoping that by strangling the thing, he’d be able to calm down a little bit. Sucking in deep breaths, Tony forced himself to remain under control. This was just another teenage boy. As far as he knew, Clay could be a total douche bag and was just suffering from a concussion that made him the cutest person in the world. Until he got to know the boy, Tony had to keep his shit together.

Pulling up to the curb, Tony thrust the car into park. He wiggled until he could grab his cell phone from his back pocket. They’d texted a little back and forth the night before, talking about cars and Tony’s long history of fixing them. Hannah didn’t mind sitting around watching him work, but always tuned out whenever he’d start to talk about whatever it was he was doing. The refreshing feeling of someone other than his family being interested washed over him again—just from remembering their conversation. Going back to it, Tony clicked the box, his fingers flying over the keys.

Tony: I know you’re not familiar with car sounds, but the engine rumbling outside is me.  
Tony: I’m out here whenever you’re ready.

The second the texts were sent, Tony felt a little bit of a load come off his shoulders. Half of the nerves accumulated on the drive over, and now that he was here, simply waiting for the guy, Tony could finally breathe—the hard part was over. A buzz had his face lighting up a couple minutes later, Clay’s name playing across his screen exciting still.

Clay: So that’s what that noise was.  
Clay: I like it.  
Clay: I’ll be down in a minute. Gotta get through the mom barrier first.

Tony grinned, enjoying thoroughly the way Clay talked. He could see the intellectual side of the boy—his nerdiness something that he wouldn’t be able to cover up, no matter how hard he tried. Yet, he could also see the reserved side, the side that worried about saying the right thing, or what to say in the silence that tends to creep between people. It was subtle, but Tony spent a lot of time the night before paying as close of attention as he possibly could. He was a noticer—someone who watched and knew. People revealed so damn much just by breathing, being themselves in a relaxed state that Tony wanted to know that about them; instead of the bull shit they tried to sell with the words coming out of their mouth.

A couple minutes later, Tony saw legs first—long, long denim covered legs coming down the porch. Then, the bright face of Clay Jensen revealed itself next. The kid covered the gash on his head with a Batman bandaid, the thing loud and proud on his forehead. Tony couldn’t help but chuckle, another piece of the Clay Jensen symphony he really liked. The kid didn’t seem to care too much about what anyone thought, the plain hoodie on his back saying that the loudest. Before he could really prepare himself, Clay was by the passenger side door, leaning into the open window with the most gorgeous smile he’d ever seen.

“Tony. How goes it this morning? I like the look.” Clay said, his blue eyes roaming all over Tony, from the length of his legs up to the tip top of his hair. Tony felt himself blush, his skin prickling from the perusal. His outfit was fresh, though, he had to admit. Dark blue jeans covered his legs, matched with black and white converse on his feet. His favorite Pink Floyd t-shirt covered his back, topped with his patented leather jacket. Though he merely threw the outfit together that morning, Tony took care and consideration when picking it—this being the one way he truly liked to express himself. The compliment made him beam, everything about it making him feel like he was actually doing something right. “Thanks, man. I’m doing alright. I’ve always been a morning fan,” Tony replied, reaching across the cab to unlock the door. “Why don’t you hop in? Monet’s is usually pretty dead this time of the morning.” 

Clay didn't miss a beat, the teen merely nodding his head and pulling the door open. The leather squeaked when he sat on it, the sound bringing a small smirk to Tony's lips. One of his favorite parts of owning an old car, he thought. Tony watched as Clay settled back and literally inhaled. His nostrils flared with the movement, the boy dragging in a deep breath of air. Tony couldn't help the way his eyebrows quirked together, this being the first time he'd ever experienced that. 

Clay looked at him then, laughing outright at the look on his face. "I noticed it yesterday. It smells like leather and something kind of sweet. The leather polish gives it the sweet smell, I'd imagine," Clay mumbled, putting his hand on the seat, clenching his fingers against the leather. "I didn't know how much I liked the smell of leather until I sat down again yesterday afternoon. Not only is your car fucking amazing, but it smells like heaven, too." Clay finished then, shrugging his shoulders as if to say he wasn't sorry for the weird sniffing. Tony shook his head, the blush from earlier creeping back across his cheeks. One of the things he'd always been told he smelt like was leather. He wondered if Clay knew that, too. 

"I'm glad you like it, then. My dad is pretty anal about upkeep. I polish the seats a whole lot more often than I really need to. I'll have to tell him you appreciate it," Tony replied, his voice light and happy, excitement coursing through him. If that was anything to go by, Tony wasn't the only one with feelings keeping them up at night. 

Flipping the shifter back into drive, Tony pulled away from the curb. His fingers turned the dial, increasing the volume of the music. Like he hoped, Clay immediately perked up, eyelids covering the gorgeous blue eyes as the boy seemed to let himself fall into a trance listening. Tony watched as much as he could while still paying attention to the road. His heart fluttered, Tony knowing he was feeling himself fall a little bit at a time. 

"Dude, your music taste is solid. And the sound of the tapes. Man, why did this avenue of media ever go away?" Clay asked a couple minutes later, sparkling blue eyes wide open now, looking at him curiously. 

"I have been asking myself that same question. We've got the fancy phones that play the music, but there's nothing like this. I mean, vinyl is righteous, too, but I can't really take that around," he said in reply, cursing himself for the little bit of babble he let slip from his lips at the end of that statement. Clay didn't seem to notice, however, or care. The boy turned more in his seat, eyes wide. "Vinyl? Please tell me you've got this really cool collection of old records," Clay got out excitedly, his face pink, lips pulled into a huge grin. 

Tony took his eyes off the road, brown and blue locking when their eyes met. "It's epic, Jensen. My dad had this rebellious teen thing going on in his day. Buying every single rock album was his 'fuck you' to his parents. It's honestly amazing. He's only missing a couple key things that would make the collection perfect." Tony continued to talk, each one of the words coming out of his mouth so easily. He usually didn't string so many syllables together. Hannah was the only one not family that usually got more than a grunt, and even then, only when she was lucky. He felt a little dumbfound by the words coming out of his mouth, and the sheer amount of them. 

Clay looked at him with rapt attention the entire time he talked, which also helped the words flow so freely. The boy seemed to be interested in everything he had to say. When Tony finally slowed down enough for the boy to talk, Clay leaned forward, gesturing with his hands. 

"I love records and I love the ones that are actually vintage. I'd love to see this collection some time. One of the main things I miss about Seattle is the music scene. You could spend hours in the stacks at some of the local mom and pop stores. Then I'd get lost in a coffee shop listening to whatever live." Clay stopped for a second, the boy obviously somewhere else. Tony merely watched out of the corner of his eye, enjoying every single second of this. 

Clay snapped to a second later, blushing furiously. He shook his head, not saying anything for another second. "I miss it. Is there anything like that around here?" 

Tony pulled into the Monet's parking lot, the boy thinking for a second. There were places outside of town, places he'd never taken anyone before. Sharing his secret place would be a big step. His conversation with Hannah flashed across his mind, what they talked about right in front of his face. He could embrace the feeling or deny it, Clay giving him the perfect chance to do either. 

"There's actually this really cool hole in the wall a bit outside of town. It's a little eclectic. The man who owns it is ancient, but I've spent so many Saturday's sitting in one of the bean bags working my way through vinyls on the turntable." Tony's voice was rich with passion, his love for music seeping out of him the more he thought about it. That really was one of 'his' places. The prospect of sharing it with the guy across from him made it even more exciting. A smile graced his lips when he saw Clay's own look of excitement. Blue eyes twinkled like shiny headlights, captivating Tony in a way that bent him in half. The word mind blowing flitted across his brain over and over. 

"That sounds awesome, man. I'd love to spend the day doing that. There's just something about the scratch of the needle, you know?" Clay couldn't help the smile in his voice if he tried, Tony noticing the depth it gained in this relaxed state. His heart felt funny, pounding a mile a minute. 

"Why don't we do it this weekend, then? I can show you around town some. There's some hidden treasures if you know where to look." Tony felt his skin flush as the words fell from his lips. Listening to the happiness in Clay's voice propelled him to ask what he did, but he still felt surprised by the fact that he did it in the first place. What the hell, he thought, both over the moon and nervous as hell. 

Clay let his lips turn slowly into a smile. His eyes shone more, if that was even possible. He brought his hands up, wiggling his fingers together. "I'm so in. I like the way you think, Tony." Clay nodded his head a couple of times as he said this, the smile growing wider.

Tony had to bite down on his lip to make sure his own face didn't break into that same bright smile. Closing his eyes, he took a couple deep breaths, letting the thrill of all of this course through him. Eyes opening again, Tony felt a bit more calm, ready to take on the next awesome thing Clay threw at him. 

"Excellent. I'll make some plans. It'll be fun." Tony felt proud of himself, only a little bit of eagerness coming out in those words. He cleared his throat, turning the keys so the car shut down in the spot. 

"Ready for the experience that is Monet's? It's overpriced coffee at its finest," Tony joked. Despite the expense, the boy loved the atmosphere. He figured Clay would, too. 

"Born ready. I've come with a five dollar bill to spend on overpriced coffee. This must be my lucky day!" Clay joked back, a laugh leaving his mouth, cheeks a precious shade of pink. Tony stared, just for a moment, soaking up the chemistry vibing between them. He wanted to remember this moment. Shaking his head, he nodded to the door. 

"Come, Clay Jensen. Coffee awaits."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to cover what happens inside Monet's. I know we didn't cover much ground, but I'm enjoying fleshing out the characters. As always, thanks for the read!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay and Tony grab a cup of coffee and find out a little bit more about the other.

"Come, Clay Jensen, coffee awaits." 

A soft laugh filled his throat, leaving it little by little. Throughout the whole car ride, Clay felt his nerves steadily shake themselves off. The boy in front of him, done up in a gorgeous outfit with a spectacular personality, made it easy to feel at ease. Despite the kid not even feeling at ease with himself completely. Clay pondered that for a moment. Tony was otherwise all put together. The bad-boy that's actually a good boy persona wasn't faked. The kid was nitty gritty, with oil stained fingers and stubble at seven in the morning. The right out of The Outsiders look wasn't a pose or costume. The boy embodied the persona. Yet, there was still a piece of him he hadn't quite figured out. Clay could feel it, the same way he could feel the piece missing in himself, too. Was self discovery really about the experiences, or merely just allowing yourself to unlock all the pieces that were already there, just waiting to be expressed? He didn't know, but he could tell he was on the path to it. Same as Tony. Probably the same as everyone at their entire school who gave a damn about themselves. 

Sucking in some of the clean air around him, Clay glanced up, excited to see rich brown eyes staring back at him. Tony wore a half smile, the look in his eyes something Clay couldn't help but be curious about. He wanted so much to know what it meant. The boy couldn't deny that he wanted to know all things Tony, including the thoughts he seemed to express so easily with his eyes. 

They started walking then, the two pretty close, arms brushing as they walked. Neither was effected by it, either. In fact, neither boy seemed to notice just how close they were naturally walking. That comfortability and ease showing its face again. Tony walked ahead, quickening his steps to make it to the door first. Tan fingers wrapped around the handle, pulling it open. "After you," Tony mumbled warmly, the same half smile on his lips. Clay nodded as he passed, making sure they brushed. In the momentary connection, Clay could feel a solid chest, and well defined shoulders. He didn't know much about working cars, but could easily see that it kept whoever it was doing the work in very good shape. Blood rushed to his cheeks at the thought. Tony's build was a far cry from his own. Where the shorter boy was toned and built, Clay was gangly, only having cuts because of how damn skinny he was. He blamed it on all the biking.

He quickly shook his head of the thought, focusing instead on all the things around him. The smell of coffee beans hit his nose almost instantly. His mind transported back to his favorite coffee shop in Seattle, the atmosphere there so similar to here. The chalkboards holding the specials were always his favorite. He couldn't shake the feeling of home whenever he saw that particular piece of decoration. When they got to the counter, his heart beat even faster with happiness; this place pressed their coffee right in front of you! The more time he spent in this town, the less he could remember the intricate details of his hometown. This place, Monet's, it embraced him, little pieces of familiarity wrapping him up like a blanket. Finally something he could connect with, something to keep him going. 

"Are you a big coffee fan?" Tony asked, bumping their shoulders together to get Clay's attention. Blue eyes blinked, an apologetic look on his face. "You just seemed lost in thought. Like you've seen this place before," the shorter guy shrugged, the smile he'd been wearing all morning still nestled safely on his cheeks. "I just started drinking it a little while ago. What I am a big fan of, though, is the coffee shops themselves. There's a little market just outside my neighborhood that had three little cafes. Each one of them had a totally different atmosphere. You went there based on your mood, it always felt like. This place reminds me of my favorite one. I felt at home for the first time since coming here," Clay explained, surprised by how right and true that last little piece of information was. 

"There's coffee shops like this back in Washington? Small world, man. I'm glad you're digging it, though. Hannah loves this place. We come here all the time. Kind of like a home away from home, too." Clay appreciated the smile Tony couldn't keep from his face at the mention of Hannah. The girl obviously the kid's best friend. "That makes me think you're going to be including me in the coming here all the time thing. And if that's the case, I have to tell you I'm pretty stoked. I could see myself liking it here." Clay winked at the amused look on Tony's face. Enjoying every single second of seeing the smile on the shorter boy's face. "That might be what I'm hinting at. Maybe," Tony responded back, blushing like mad. It was barely noticeable at this angle because of the kid's skin tone, but Clay saw it. 

Clay opened his mouth to respond, stopping when he heard his name being said somewhere across the room. They were now the first people in line, a big gap between the counter and where they stood. That, however, wasn't what caught his attention.

"Skye? What the hell? Skye Miller?" Clay spluttered, confusion and the slightest hint of hope prickling at his skin. She looked completely different than when he saw her last. Of course, they were seven, both with big gaps where their front teeth used to be. Those cheekbones were unmistakable, Clay remembering how much he wished he had them when they were younger, how often he told her how pretty they were. The girl's lipstick covered lips pulled into a happy smile, the look almost foreign on her face. Closing the gap between them, Clay leaned against the counter, eyes wide with a different kind of excitement. This too felt like coming home, discovering a family member was a lot closer than he originally thought. "Clay Jensen," Skye replied warmly, leaning forward on the counter herself. 

Not forgetting about Tony, Clay looked over his shoulder, nodding his head towards the counter. "Tony, I bet you know Skye. She and I went to school together when we were little," Clay remarked excitedly. Skye and Tony looked at each other, exchanging friendly enough smiles. Though, it was obvious the two hadn't really interacted before, or if they did, it was brief and only done out of necessity. Thinking on it, it wasn't all that surprising. That seemed to be Tony's MO, except for the special few who got to see the real person behind the confidence. "It's cool that you guys are in the same place again. Like I was saying earlier, small world." Tony said, his voice sounding genuine, if not a little curious. 

Clay grinned back at him, happy this wasn't awkward. He'd been in enough situations like this that could've ended weirdly if given the chance. Clay turned his attention back to Skye, his smile widening more. "What can I get you?" she asked him, the girl fiddling, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. Clay noticed the movement, happy that some things never changed. "I'll take an americano and whatever this guy is having," Clay replied, nudging Tony. The shorter boy looked confused for a second before speaking up. "I'll have the same. With some cinnamon, if you don't mind." Skye nodded, eyes softening the longer she stood around them. He didn't know much about this version of Skye, her seven year old self a completely different person. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know softness and smiled weren't really her thing, though. The fact that she was gracing him with one, well, it spoke volumes about their friendship as kids. Some things truly are unforgettable, he thought. Clay went to reach for his wallet a second later, but stopped when Skye put up a hand. "It's on the house. It's good to see you, Jensen," she said as reasoning, placing their coffee in front of them a couple seconds later. "Thanks, Skye. I'll see you around." 

The girl merely arched a brow, nodding ever so slightly in acknowledgement. 

\--- 

Clay followed Tony to one of the tables in the back. The guy made a beeline for it, so this must be where he sat often. They settled into chairs across from each other, Tony tucking into his coffee right away. Long fingers tapped on the glass, still absorbing everything around him. 

"Do they do any live shows here?" Clay asked, curious about the small stage-like thing at the back of the place. Tony settled the coffee mug between both of his hands after taking another sip, the boy wracking his brain. Blue eyes settled on him as he thought, Clay watching the crinkle in his brow, and the way his lips seemed to move, almost like he was mumbling to himself. Tony unguarded was when he could see his most natural features; though, Clay knew, even after only knowing him a day, that Tony didn't do unguarded often. 

"Uh, nah. I don't actually think so. They do some poetry every now and again, but I think that's it as far as live stuff goes." Tony paused, turning the cup in his hands. "But, there's some cool little joints I know of. They usually have good cover bands playing on the weekends," Tony's voice was hopeful, full of what Clay decided was excitement. He wondered if Tony shared this part of himself with anyone, Hannah included. 

"Another adventure to add to the list, I hope?" Clay fired back, hopefully adding more to the hope the other guy felt. 

Tony merely nodded, still spinning the cup over and over. He took a noticeably deep breath before looking up, a soft smile enveloping his cheeks. "I've never met anyone that likes music the same as me. I tried to take Hannah to a show once and she was cool about it, but I could tell it wasn't her thing. Kind of like me dragging her to a car show, or something. I uh- I've been thinking about what vinyl I want to pick out and play for you. Just to see if you know the band, or have heard any of their stuff before. Then you doing the same with me. My library is probably gonna expand so much. Think of all the mixed tapes..." he trailed of for a second, lost in the thought. A couple quick blinks brought him back a heartbeat later. "It's cool." Tony mumbled the last little bit, the boy bringing his coffee up to his mouth to mask blush creeping across his cheeks once more. Clay could feel himself responding, his soul opening up to the words Tony spoke. Another old soul in a sea soulless drones. This was the kind of person Clay never thought he'd meet, the kind that he could easily see letting into his life without a second thought. Another old soul, Clay thought, another one like me. 

With a grin, Clay reached over, flicking tan fingers gripping the ceramic mug tightly. He wanted so much to pry those fingers loose, to wrap them up in his own for safe keeping. "Music is a straight connection to the soul, my friend. I didn't grow up with too many friends, but you've always got music. I'll gladly share that vibe with you, man. I'd actually love to. Someone to enjoy music with is kind of a dream," Clay's voice was a pitch higher by the end, the passion he felt and his deep love for music mixing in with innate want to please the guy sitting across from him. 

Clay saw Tony shake his head, the boy turning ever so slightly so the full effect of the smile across his lips couldn't be seen. The taller boy shook his own head, wondering where Tony got off being so... captivating. Clay wanted to talk and listen and ask questions and answer some himself. The need to soak up information only happened when he was reading, or absorbed in one of his video games. His senses felt heightened, ears and mouth on high alert to make sure everything went smoothly and was remembered. Making friends or falling in love, Clay couldn't decided what was happening; honestly, he figured this was what an incredible mixture of both felt like. 

For something to do with his hands, Clay brought the mug to his mouth, taking his first sip of the drink. The bitter taste warmed his chest, his taste buds prickling with happiness as the liquid slid across them. He took another couple of drinks, each one just as satisfying as the last. Tony was watching him, blue eyes noticing dark obsidian pools soaking him up, just like Clay'd been doing since they met the day before. Attention usually made him uncomfortable. Especially this kind, where every detail was being catalogued. Clay couldn't force himself to mind now, though, those eyes still one of the things he thought about the most over the passed twenty-four hours. 

"Did you know that every single time I've seen you since we met yesterday, I've craved some kind of chocolate?" Clay blurted, his brain wrapped around the warmth of Tony's eyes. He brought a hand to his mouth when the words echoed in his own brain. Though, the soft laugh leaving Tony's lips reassured him. There'd be no judgement, at least, not the negative kind. "Nope, I didn't know that. I kinda get it, though. I've got my ma's eyes. My pops is always spitting about how she's got the tastiest eyes he's ever seen. That takes on a whole new meaning now that I'm thinking about it," Tony chuckled, then crinkled his face for a second before relaxing into another laugh. Clay appreciated the way Tony talked about his family, noticing for the second day in a row how tenderly they were mentioned. "Your dad sounds pretty wise, dude," was all Clay could think to say, not saying how right his father, how insanely fucking right.

Those same brown eyes dilated, filling with a shiny sort of sparkle. The effect lasted for a second before Tony gulped in a big breath, obviously calming himself. 

"I think you're both just perpetually hungry. My ma is the greatest cook. His favorite compliment to dish out is 'delicioso'. She stopped asking him how everything tasted after a while." Clay laughed at the memory, able to see Tony doing the same thing. He didn't know how, but his gut just told him so. It was obvious how ingrained appreciation was into the shorter boy. Appreciation for all the things he was lucky to have; the Mustang, his job, his family- there wasn't any mistaking how much being grateful was important. A person in Tony's life wouldn't be any different. Clay couldn't shake how good that could feel, how much he wanted to see if that were undeniably true. 

"This is probably weird, but everything you've said about her makes me want to meet your mom. I don't think I've ever said that before," Clay said blinking, wondering what the hell got him to think that, let alone say it. Well, he knew why he thought it, the wanting to know everything Tony Padilla thing still in the forefront of his mind. Tony's lips were turned into an outright smirk when he looked up. Brown eyes flashed with amusement, the guy glad he wasn't the only one being loose lipped. A laugh left plump pink lips before Tony responded, the smirk still firmly set. "She's going to love hearing that. I'll make this happen, Jensen. Plan you a little tea party with her, or something," Tony said, amusement and sarcasm seeping from his words and tone. "I'm kidding. In all honesty, she'd probably love it. More people to have at her table." 

Clay liked the picture of that too. Growing up as an only child, dinner time was one of his parents and himself, eating quietly. Forks scraping plates featured as the soundtrack of his dinner table. Being loaded around a table with several voices vying for attention would be a big and welcome change. "Is dinner crazy for you guys? I can only imagine what seven people around the dinner table is like," his head tilted curiously, blue eyes shining, shining, shining. 

Tony brought his lip between his teeth, yet again trying to suppress a smile he'd never be able to. "Crazy isn't the word I'd use. More like... chaotic. My padre calls for order one time and one only. The rest of the time, it's a free for all. Not ever a dull second, man," Tony finally spoke out. Clay nodded, the picture in his head fitting the exact reality. He loved his parents. They were good to him; but quiet and reserved, only ever speaking freely when something was wrong, or needed to be known in that very moment. This new Clay called for a little bit of chaos. 

His phone vibrated, pulling him away from the distracting thoughts of Tony. Looking, he rolled his eyes at his mom's text. The time caught his eye, however, Clay clicking the button one too many times on the lock screen. Eyes flashed for a second before he noticed Tony noticing it, too. "Damn. We gotta head to school," Tony got up as he said this. "I've gotta grab a drink for Hannah. It'll only take a second." He shot Clay a half smile, then turned, walking back towards the counter. 

Clay watched him go, the boy fixated on the strain of leather across his shoulders. He didn't remember ever liking leather before meeting Tony, yet, it seemed to be one of the things he noticed the most now. The entire time the boy was ordering, Clay looked and looked, able to distinguish the lines of stitching by the time he turned around, to-go cup in hand. He forced himself to blink, pulling his attention away from Tony as the boy himself walked back his way. 

Worn in boots stopped in front of the table. Tony remained standing, hovering close to Clay. "You ready to go? I'd hate to make you late two days in a row," Tony spoke gently, placing his hand on Clay's shoulder for just a second. 

Clay tilted his head to the side, looking at his shoulder where Tony's hand just resided. His skin tingling. He glanced up, nodding slightly. "If we must," Clay replied back. Getting up, Clay didn't think how impossibly close they were, the two suddenly nose to nose. He heard Tony suck in a breath. Their position didn't change for a few moments. Finally, Clay forced himself to take a step back, softening the blow by clutching Tony's arm as he did. "You're fucking clumsy, Jensen." The other mumbled, squeezing Clay's arm before pulling away more, putting another step between them. They shared a quick smile, both knowing they shared a desire for a different result in that scenario; just... not yet. 

They continued to stare for another moment before something snapped their attention back to the present. 

Interesting, Clay thought, following the other boy out the door. 

Very interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the dialogue heavy chapter. I've been digging giving each of the guys their own internal voice, so the talking back and forth kind of helps with that. There's more vinyl geeking to come, better buckle up, my inner music nerd is having a blast. I hope the person who wanted some Skye enjoys her introducion. I'm pumped to see how she's gonna play into all of this, too. If you've got anything else you'd like to see, let me know. As always, thanks for the read.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lead up to their record store date. A nice dose of friendship and music love mixed in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry I haven't updated this one in a while. I have a lot of plot bunnies running through my head and some take hold and don't let go. I finally got something good to come from this little bunny, so hopefully you like it! Don't worry, we'll see the actual date from Clay's point of view. I like splitting up the scenes this way; it makes them more fun to write and I get to tap into the characters a whole lot more. As per usual, if there's anything you want to see, let me know. Like always, thanks for the read!

The rest of the week passed with relative calm for Tony. Everyday, he and Hannah would add a new stop to their route to school. Clay would stumble his way out of the house in a hoodie and jeans, looking both sleep rumpled and so put together. How he managed the look, Tony couldn't quite figure out. The more time they spent together as a group, the more Tony could see just how well Clay fit in with them. Hannah's rough and tumble humor was harder to accept, but Clay did it flawlessly, firing back at her without a second thought. She'd been there an entire year and not a lot of people accepted the girl for who she was. Hell, Tony sometimes had a hard time putting up with the antics. He loved her enough to do it, of course. There wasn't ever a time when he thought otherwise. The new kid coming in and doing right off the bat, though, it amazed him, it made him so much more likable... and that seemed impossible.

He and Hannah talked often about it. From the get go, his best friend knew that Clay struck him on a different level. "You like him. I can tell. And I don't blame you. There's just something about him," he remembered her saying. For a brief second, Tony thought the girl might be falling under his spell too. Her eyes shone a little brighter whenever Clay got in the car, or they sat together at Monet's. It wouldn't surprise him a single bit if it were true, either. They both were people who knew what they wanted and when it came along, on the rare chance that it did, at least, it was hard to not go after it.

The point of her liking him seemed kind of moot, however. Both he and Clay talked animatedly all week about their trip to the record store. Clay admitted several times he'd been doing some research into the little record shops around town, the kid obviously eager to find out where they might be going. Tony smiled at that, knowing this one wouldn't be found on the internet. The guy who owned it was word of mouth only. One of the last true patriots of the arts, Tony thought. He wasn't innocent of being overeager, either. Since making the date, Tony found himself going through his dad's old records, re-familiarizing himself with some of the greats. Not only did he want to impress Clay with the cool hole in the wall, but his music taste needed to be impeccable, too.

On Friday, the three of them pulled up to the curb in front of school, Tony putting the Mustang in park to let the two goobs out. Clay climbed out first, opening the door wide so Hannah could climb from the back seat. Instead of shutting the door and heading in, however, Clay got back inside, waving at Hannah then grinning over at Tony. "Thought I'd tag along today. You drop us off like you're our driver, or something," Clay said in a way of explanation. Tony laughed at that, shaking his head. "That's pretty funny. I never used to drop her off. She's got an AP class first thing in the morning and has taken to studying beforehand. My walks in have been super quiet, now that I think about it." Tony grinned over at Clay, not saying how glad he felt to get a little bit of time alone together.

"So, I gotta tell you. I'm so excited for the record store tomorrow. The anticipation of seeing what it has to offer is driving me bonkers!" Clay remarked excitedly. The sound of his voice had Tony glancing at him, an eyebrow raised high on his forehead. "Might've already happened, Jensen," Tony mumbled, covering up the laugh threatening to spill out with a soft cough. A hand smacking him a moment later had the laugh falling out anyway. Clay shot him a mock offended look before joining him in laughter. "I'll have you know they already had me tested for that." The two looked at each other as the words left Clay's mouth, then suddenly fell apart into hysterics. Luckily, Tony pulled into his normal parking spot before that happened. The laughter stuck around for several minutes, the two stopping then looking at the other... which immediately started the laughter again. Finally, Tony couldn't stand the ache in his abdominals and pulled in a few calming breaths. "I'm not ever gonna look at you and not see Sheldon from here on out, man," Tony said, breaking the calmed silence with a smile.

Clay's face contorted into the happiest grin he'd ever seen. "You watch Big Bang?" the boy asked eagerly, turning in the seat so they were face to face. Tony shook his head again, a bubble of laughter coming up. "That's almost a stupid question. You've met Hannah, right? I've spent many a night watching that show with takeout. But don't tell anyone. I've got a reputation and all that," Tony pointed a finger over at Clay, shaking it jokingly. If only people knew some of the shit about him, he thought. If only they knew.

Clay leaned back into the seat, hands coming up in surrender. "You're secret is safe with me," he said softly, grinning from ear to ear. Tony thought back to what Hannah said the last time they talked about Clay. There's just something about him. Something that let Tony say stuff he normally wouldn't, or laugh like a hyena in a way he hadn't in years. Clay brought out the piece of him he hadn't been ready to share. It amazed him, just how quickly he seemed to be letting down that guard around the other boy. He'd heard about meant to be but hadn't thought a lot about it. But something like this, an instant connection, kinda made that thought make sense. Meant to be.

Shaking his head of the thought, Tony returned the smile. "We should get in there. Your new kid glam is only gonna save you from tardy slips for so long," Tony mumbled, glad to be on a different train of thought. In the passed few days of hanging out, little moments where they seemed to gravitate towards each other occurred. More frequently the longer they got to know each other. Tony hated that they broke, but rejoiced in it, too. If this was what he hoped it was, Tony wanted to ease into it, moving through the waters slowly, with caution and care.

"I think you're right. The office ladies love me, though. Say I'm so polite." As Clay spoke, he batted his eyelashes, feigning innocence. Tony reached out and slapped his shoulder, snorting. "They'll see right through that soon enough." And then karma, the bitch that she is, struck again. The bell rang, alerting them of impending tardiness. "Looks like you might need to work your magic," Tony said after a second, dissolving them both into fits of laughter again.

\---

The school day flew by after that. The classes the two shared, they joked back and forth with each other. Especially in French when they were forced to have their weekly conversation partners. Tony spent more time watching the way Clay's mouth formed the words than anything else. Several times Clay had to repeat himself before Tony thought to respond. He'd never experienced anything like this before; complete and total preoccupation, to the point where it was hard to think. He couldn't say he didn't like it, though. The day was better spent thinking about soft, pale cheeks than the conjugation of verbs.

By the end of the day, the three of them were ready to get off campus and into the freedom of the weekend. Hannah was waiting expectantly by the car, holding three bottles of Mountain Dew. "End of the first week, boys. Calls for some celebration," she said, bringing the bottles up. Tony's eyes lit up, the prospect of the sugary drink sliding down his throat exciting him beyond belief. Elixir of the fucking gods. He heard a laugh behind him, but didn't think to look over his shoulder. Ever since his mom stopped buying sodas, Tony relied on gas stations and Hannah Baker to get his fix. The Mountain Dew bottle in her hands reminded him of why they were friends. She knew the exact things to do to make the day that much better.

Tony grabbed one, then handed the other to Clay. "It's kind of a ritual. Celebrate the little shit, right Baker?" Tony said, cracking open the top to his soda. Hannah nodded, saluting with her own bottle. "It's the only way to make the shittiness of high school bearable." Then, "to one less week of hell." They all raised their bottles and clanked the plastic together, the resounding thud satisfying and appropriate for the toast. Tony took a long pull of it, the sugar hitting his tongue immediately releasing dopamine inside his brain. No wonder everyone was so addicted to sugary shit, he thought. Before coming back for air, he'd downed half the drink. Brown eyes glanced up, taking in both his friends staring, then laughing. Tony blushed red, trying to hide his grin. "What? It's good!" he said in reason, both Clay and Hannah both exploding into more laughter as the words came out. Shaking his head, Tony felt the brush creep further, then his own laughter spill out. "Alright, alright. Get your asses in the car if you don't wanna walk."

Everyone scattered, each of them still laughing, trying their hardest to remember this... the little stuff.

\---

The next day found Tony obsessively rooting around under the roof of the Mustang. After dropping Hannah and Clay off, Tony drove around to clear his head, something he did often. About halfway through the route he usually took, a clicking noise could be heard. He immediately turned around, putting her up on blocks the second he got home. He worked late into the night tightening everything, but the sound still remained. When he got up that morning, he skipped over breakfast, yelling "gotta get the car fixed, ma!" over his shoulder when she asked about sitting down to eat. He'd been in the garage ever since, frustratingly running through all the things that could be wrong.

After another hour of coming up short, Tony grabbed his dad from his armchair. The old man protested a bit, but came around eventually. Tony knew the guy couldn't say no to a little adventure under the hood. The new set of eyes seemed to help almost instantly. His dad spotted the problem, pointing with a perpetually oil stained finger. "That belt needs a change. Do you see the run in it? I think there's one in the toolbox by the door." His father pointed again, the older man's eyes alight at the thought of a couple hours of work.

Tony and his dad finished up with a couple hours to spare before he needed to go pick up Clay. When tan fingers turned the keys in the ignition and she purred like a dream, Tony whoop, excited that after the panic of the night before, everything was coming together. He couldn't show up to grab Clay without the Mustang, and the Mustang needed to be in tip top shape to really complete the deal. Clapping his dad on the back, Tony headed towards the door, needing to get ready. "Thanks, pops," Tony said, looking over his shoulder with a half smile. His dad waved his hand dismissively, the typical response. "I'm just glad you know when to come for help. Good job, mijo." Tony straightened back around before beaming. Those rare compliments were treasured independently. 

Now, he thought, what do I wear?

\---

The getting ready process always took him a little extra time—simply because his hair demanded it. This time, however, Tony was at a loss from the very beginning. How did one prepare for a date that’s not a date but is really a date? To top it off, he hadn’t gotten the haircut he wanted to get earlier in the day, so he was stuck with long and hard to tame hair. Not a lot of things in his wardrobe gave him much trouble, but his hair—his hair would always be his arch nemesis. After a couple rounds through every piece of clothing he owned, Tony settled on black denim jeans and a white Henley, the first two buttons open so the tiniest part of his tattoo could be seen. The color of the rose buds really stood out against his skin tone and the contrasting white t-shirt. With everything put together, Tony stood in front of the mirror and nodded—for the first time since starting the getting ready process he was completely satisfied with what he managed to come up with. 

He spent no time at all getting through the house, avoiding all of his siblings and their questioning nature. Nerves coursed through him every time he caught the time or thought about where he was going, he didn’t need his siblings to add to that. While working on the car earlier, Tony explained his plans for the night to his dad, so finding his parents wasn’t necessary, either. He merely grabbed his keys, slid into his boots, and exited through the garage—calm and glad that he managed to stay that way. 

Patting the Mustang’s hood, Tony quickly slid inside, inhaling deeply like he always did. He’d cleaned the seats and steering wheel earlier, giving his baby the complete, five-star tune up. Grinning, Tony sucked in another deep breath, trying to calm down the nerves. Once the Mustang fired up and the engine roared, Tony was able to breathe a little easier. Cars, whether it was working on them or driving them, always helped to calm him down. 

Going there everyday throughout the week made the drive to Clay’s easy, and before he really realized it, Tony was outside the door. He pulled down the sun flap and flicked open the mirror, antsy and eager, wanting to look his absolute best despite not knowing exactly what this was. Brown eyes surveyed all they could see, taking in the little pieces of hair that just wouldn’t cooperate. Huffing, he rolled his eyes, shutting the flap with a thud. Nothing he could do about it now. Tony pulled his phone out, grinning at the fact that Clay’s text message window was already up. 

Tony: I have arrived.   
Tony: If you didn’t hear the engine from a mile away. 

A couple seconds later, Tony’s phone buzzed, signaling a received text message. Interesting, he thought. Clay seemed to be just as eager and on top of things as he was. 

Clay: She purrs like a dream, dude.   
Clay: I’ll see you in…   
Clay: Three…   
Clay: Two… 

Before the text message containing one popped up, Tony saw Clay’s head poke out the door. At the angle his car sat at, he couldn’t see the boy’s expression. Which kind of sucked because he would’ve loved to see the boy’s reaction to the new looking car parked against the curb. He didn’t have time to think much more about it, though. Long legs carried Clay down the walk quickly, the taller kid getting to the curb in the matter of a few strides. Tony couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Clay got in the car excitedly, all grins, bright blue eyes brighter than he’d ever seen them. “I don’t know if you mind or not, but I made us a mixed tape. My dad had some old gear in the garage to do it, so I spent my night last night nerding out and doing that. Interested?” Clay asked, producing an all too familiar tape from who knew where. The smile on Tony’s face grew bigger, his cheeks starting to hurt from being pulled into the same position time and time again. “Hell yeah, brother. Let’s see what you’ve got,” Tony replied, grabbing the tape from Clay’s hand. The tape slipped into the player and the starting notes of Queen’s 'Bohemian Rhapsody' filled the car. 

Tony stuck out a fist, happy when Clay immediately bumped it with his own. “Good choice. Are you ready for this? Head banging and air guitar are mandatory for this jam,” Tony remarked, wiggling his fingers through non-existent frets as he did. Clay pursed his lips together and nodded twice. “Fuck yeah. Bring on the headache.” 

The song started to pick up and like they’d practiced it beforehand, Tony and Clay sung along to each of the words, harmonizing to the best of their ability. Tony loved to sing, loved to embrace music as much as possible, so this was fun for him—fun that someone else could enjoy his version of craziness, too. By the end of the song, the boys were laughing and out of breath, completely spent from the six minutes of pure musical genius. Tony flicked the sound dial down some so they could actually hear each other. “I haven’t listened to that song in forever. Gotta love Queen, man,” Tony said a couple minutes into the next song, the boy finally able to talk without taking a second to breathe in between words. Clay nodded, still pounding his fist on his thigh to the rhythm of whatever song was on now. “Freddie is an icon. I even like the addition of Adam Lambert to the awesomeness. He’s got that crazy falsetto voice, too.” He waited a beat, then spoke again, Tony catching his eyes for a brief moment before looking back at the road. “You’ve got a good voice too. Did you sing when you were younger?” Clay asked, the tone of his voice saying he was genuinely curious. 

“I didn’t, actually. My ma loves to sing, so I guess I learned everything about it from her. I can play the guitar and singing comes in handy when I’m trying new stuff. What about you? You seem to know what you’re doing, too.” Tony flipped the dial again, the music still too loud. He’d rather hear Clay’s voice any day. “Honestly, I’m just a nerd for the stuff. You haven’t met my dad yet, but he’s this nerdy guy. Teaches English Literature. It’s weird to think about it, but I actually got all of my music taste from him. He used to secretly jam out to stuff when my mom wasn’t home and I just sort of caught the bug from there. I wish, though. Maybe you could teach me how to play the guitar, or something?” Clay finished, still tapping on his thigh, and beaming in Tony’s direction. 

Tony gave himself a couple seconds to answer, making the last two turns of their trip. When they settled in Hog Wild’s parking lot, he finally turned to answer. He didn’t want to come off too excited, or too eager. The time allowed him to get his shit together and collect his thoughts, calm himself down a little. “Yeah—yeah, I could definitely do that. I don’t know how good of a teacher I am, though.” Tony shrugged, turning the engine off with a flick of his wrist. “You ready for this? Rich, the guy who owns this place, is an even bigger music nerd than we are—has the collection of a lifetime,” Tony mumbled, moving to unbuckle his seat belt. He could see the excitement rise in Clay’s features, a slight blush brushing his cheeks, making them the most tantalizing shade of red. The boy nodded eagerly, unbuckling himself in a flash. They both got out and met at the front end of the car, each grinning with untamable excitement. “Good?” Tony asked, bumping their shoulders together. Clay looked at him, expression unreadable for a second. “Great,” he replied, bumping the shorter guy back. Yeah, Tony thought, this was going to be great—better than… amazing.


End file.
